This is a movie with a technique too similar to a novel. It is cold, humane, and has its own rhythm. I really like it. I prefer the ambiguous and insidious capote to the pure kindness of the murderer, his own cunning, to help him look at the world and protect himself.
How should I put it, I am not interested in reading the original novel, I am more interested in that era. The era when so-called non-fiction writing made its debut, the era when the murders of the four lives could make people feel terrible, and the era when a book describing how people's thoughts slowly deteriorated could be sold well.
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